


I'm The Powder, You're The Fuse (Just Add Some Friction)

by preciouslittletime



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Background Mingyu/Seokmin, Based Loosely Off The Bad Clue Episode of Going Seventeen, CEO Kim Mingyu, COO Xu Minghao, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Mentions of exhibitionism, Office Sex, Yoon Jeonghan Attorney at Law
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:15:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26995006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/preciouslittletime/pseuds/preciouslittletime
Summary: So when a failing entertainment company was acquired four months ago, and Minghao was called into President Kim’s office and handed a flute of expensive champagne, he felt like the ten years of hard work was rewarded.What failed to make it into the equation, was Mingyu’s personality.
Relationships: Kim Mingyu/Xu Ming Hao | The8
Comments: 13
Kudos: 154





	I'm The Powder, You're The Fuse (Just Add Some Friction)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dygonilly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dygonilly/gifts).



> Happy Kim day to all the Kim fans out there.
> 
> We've spent a lot of time in the dms talking about enemies to lovers and that one part of the bad clue episode of going seventeen. Well here's what those conversations inspired. 
> 
> This was not-beta'd so please excuse any mistakes. Title from My Strange Addiction by Billie Eilish.

Minghao is not opportunistic, but his mother had instilled in him the value of working hard.

When he’d first come to Seoul, he didn’t even speak Korean well enough to make it through his classes without help. He worked _hard_ at his internship with RBS, being kind and polite as he’d always been, showing his talent where he could. Within ten years he’d risen from being an assistant, to an executive assistant, to President Kim’s executive assistant, to a management position with the largest media conglomerate in the entire country.

President Kim had enough evidence of Minghao’s eye for design, for his creative mind, his ability to take ideas and put them into action. He’d been trusted with everything from selecting President Kim’s wardrobe with his team of stylists to accompanying President Kim to shareholders meetings, contributing his own thoughts at President Kim’s insistence.

So when a failing entertainment company was acquired four months ago, and he was called into President Kim’s office and handed a flute of expensive champagne, he felt like the ten years of hard work was rewarded. 

“My son would benefit from your guidance once he’s installed as the new CEO of KME.”

COO Seo Myungho of KME may not be the preferred pronunciation, but it still sounded so lovely to hear out loud.

They should have been friends. They were the same age, had similar interests - art and music - and had both excelled in business school. Mingyu was, in theory, the type of person Minghao _should_ work well with and President Kim’s assumption that their partnership would take a newly acquired entertainment company into relative success _should_ have been proven correct. 

What failed to make it into the equation, was Mingyu’s personality.

It’s Friday morning and Kim Mingyu’s phone location places him somewhere in Gangnam that is decidedly not his apartment.

Minghao has never been in a long term relationship. The velocity of his upwards trajectory made it impossible to carry anyone along with him - nevermind the consequences of a major entertainment company COO openly dating a man. Theoretically, he thinks about what he would want to contribute to a relationship, the level of care he would want to provide, how he’d do it thoughtlessly and without complaint. Knowing his coffee order, what suits looked best on him, starting their days together.

He sits outside a luxury apartment building in the backseat of a Kim family car waiting for Mingyu to read his barrage of text messages. There’s condensation from the iced coffee puddling in the cupholder, a garment bag at his side, and breakfast cooling in the front seat. 

It takes four texts, two calls, and thirty-seven minutes for Mingyu to slip into the car with him.

Minghao will never understand what it’s like to be born rich and handsome, and frankly, he’s glad he doesn’t. If for no other reason that he has a work ethic and an ego that can fit into one room comfortably with suffocating everyone else standing inside. Mingyu can’t say the same. Minghao can sense Mingyu by the pompous energy in the air alone.

“Good morning, Minghao-ya.”

It isn’t lost on him that Mingyu is the only person he knows who pronounces his name correctly. It should make him happy. But it feels like Mingyu is stealing something from him when he already owns so much.

“Have you showered? Or slept?” Minghao asks. He knows the answer. Mingyu smells like liquor and perfume. There’s a smear of red lipstick on the pressed collar of his shirt that travels in a messy trail along the column of his neck to disappear behind his ear.

“No,” Mingyu says, voice hoarse. He hardly acknowledges Minghao’s presence as he throws his 3.5 million won suit jacket into the front seat and turns up the air conditioning despite it being the middle of November. He thanklessly digs into his breakfast, sucking down the coffee and shoving rice into his mouth. “And no. I stayed out until four,” he says around the mouthful.

“There’s an extra shot of espresso in that coffee,” Minghao says flatly. “I figured you’d need it since there are several things that you need to attend to this morning. I need your undivided attention.” He hands Mingyu a napkin and motions to the lipstick staining his skin.

Mingyu purses his lips around a smile in understanding once he sees the evidence in the rearview mirror. “So did she.”

Minghao flattens his lips into a thin line without thinking, brain capacity used up by the sudden and unwelcome image of Mingyu having sex with some beautiful faceless girl. There’s still a sheen of sweat on Mingyu’s forehead. It couldn’t have been that long ago. The handsy cab ride from some club back to this girl’s apartment, Mingyu’s thick fingers in her hair when she sucked his dick in the entryway while the sun rose, his brows knitted up the way he did when he concentrated, focusing hard on fucking her deep and chasing his orgasm - 

Mingyu notices the way Minghao falters and he flashes him a cocky smile before he starts working his cufflinks out of their places on his wrists, elbows fanning outward and knocking into Minghao’s upper arm. He glances at Minghao as he slips off his shirt, eyes still puffy from lack of sleep, but narrowed in curiosity. 

It’s hard not to look at Mingyu and Mingyu knows it. 

Minghao looks down at his phone, but not without stealing a glance at Mingyu’s back. The muscle under his caramel skin shifting, his narrow waist, the way he strips down to a pair of underwear, barely fitting in the backseat as he redresses himself into a freshly pressed suit. 

“We have a shareholder’s meeting in two hours,” he says as professionally as he can around the dryness in his mouth, the heat in his cheeks.

Mingyu hums an acknowledgement and Minghao keeps his attention on his phone. Out of his periphery he can see Mingyu has returned to a state of being dressed, but he can also see that Mingyu is staring straight at him as he puts a knot in his tie. And Minghao isn’t going to give Mingyu the satisfaction of sparing him a glance for the third time in ten minutes.

“I didn’t forget, give me some credit,” Mingyu laughs. He eats loudly, knees spread enough for theirs to touch, grating on Minghao’s nerves as he slurps at his iced coffee. 

“I’ve had Hansol upload the final touches to your presentation and the list of attendees,” Minghao says as he digs Mingyu’s tablet from his bag. “I’ve highlighted the important things.”

Mingyu’s fingers brush Minghao’s as he takes the tablet from his hand. “Important things?”

“Key shareholders, details of the presentation you need to emphasize.” _Things you can say to make it seem like you actually give a damn about the direction of the company you’re running_.

“My dad isn’t going to be there, right?”

“No. I told him it might be a good exercise for your shareholders to see you as the face of KME rather than him,” Minghao pushes the glasses up the bridge of his nose, quirking an eyebrow. 

Mingyu slides his hand over Minghao’s knee cap, eyes glittering. The touch is clammy and warm, and Mingyu is far too tactile for what Minghao can handle. It makes his stomach churn, Mingyu’s fingertips pressed along the seam of his pants leg, the heat of his palm, hands that had just been on somebody else’s skin. “You really think of everything, don’t you, Minghao-ya?” 

The watch on Mingyu’s wrist catches the limited sunlight, flashing across Minghao’s face, a glittering reminder that Mingyu carries four months worth of Minghao’s rent on his arm like an afterthought, and Minghao won’t be capable of paying said rent unless he twists a key in the lock of what Mingyu’s hand on his thigh makes him feel.

He smiles tightly instead, crossing his arms. “Of course. Somebody has to.”

*

Yoon Jeonghan could have worked in entertainment if he wanted to. He’s just as easily confused with the beautiful people in the crowd. There are the signed actors and the singers with moderate shares blended in with the deep pocketed shareholders milling about the eden-like roof of the KME company building. Jeonghan could have just as easily been paid for being pretty if he wasn’t better versed in the intricacies of the World Intellectual Property Organization and defamation cases.

“I can’t believe you let him give an _entire_ presentation,” Jeonghan says incredulously. His eyes catch the retreating sunlight of the late afternoon, lips pursed prettily as he watches one of the actresses under their agency cling to a shareholders arm as she laughs. He raises an eyebrow at her, seemingly impressed.

“It’s his company, hyung,” Minghao whispers. He readjusts his tie, surveying the crowd for Mingyu. “I wrote his lines. All he had to do was say them.”

“Tall order.”

“Keep your voice down.”

Jeonghan waves his hand in the air like he’s trying to dispel Minghao’s worry of keen ears with the flourish of his fingers. “Speaking of tall orders…”

In the glow of the sunset, Mingyu is somehow more handsome. 

Minghao feels like he’s spent time perfecting the angles of the walls of his own grave. The grey-blue suit he’d chosen for Mingyu compliments his skin beautifully and is tailored with such precision that it hugs Mingyu’s chest when his chest expands with laughter, when he rolls his shoulders or tips his head to the side as he listens to a conversation. 

“He cleans up so well doesn’t he,” Jeonghan smirks. “I heard he was out with some telecom girl until sunrise.”

Minghao whips his head to look at him. “Where’d you hear that?”

“Lawyers gossip more than Dispatch. Keep up.”

Minghao looks back to Mingyu and studies the way Mingyu effortlessly assures the weathered faces of the men personally invested in his success. He shakes hands, bows his head neatly so the sunlight reflects in his pomade hair. He fits in amongst the luxury, the complexity of business negotiations. He was born into this life enough to pretend he deserved it.

To anyone he’s the young handsome CEO, but Minghao knows him better. He knows how irritating Mingyu can be, how childish he still is, how many women he’s slept with and how much money he spends on things he doesn’t need. And all these private annoyances culminate in him being angry. Frustrated that Mingyu manages to speak so well in front of a crowd and win people over with his perfect smile. That he can simply prance, carefree, into a CEO position and be _successful_ at it. 

And even moreso, it’s measurable, how his ego inflates with every compliment, like a balloon taking on helium until it’s stretched thin and fit to burst. Mingyu’s cheeks get pinker, his eyes dance in the light like black cut diamonds, he takes in the beams of praise prismatically, sending the glow around the room, until it shines right in Minghao’s face.

“You know he’s sleeping with that one right?” Jeonghan says and Minghao has to climb back through his own irritation to figure out what exactly Jeonghan is implying.

It takes a moment, but Minghao finally places the sharp edged nose and loud laugh of Mingyu’s companion. 

Mingyu gives Lee Seokmin a private smile, takes a sip of wine, lets his eyelids droop down low like he’s going to make a scene and fuck Seokmin right in the middle of his own company event.

No, Minghao did not know that Mingyu is sleeping with their biggest contract client.

Minghao leans to whisper in Jeonghan’s ear. It comes out more of a hiss. “What?”

It’s striking to see Seokmin and Mingyu speaking together. Two beautiful men with equally bright smiles, equally expensive suits over their broad shoulders. 

Jeonghan turns to look at him with a look far too satisfied for someone whose job _also_ is predicated on KME’s success. “It’s not like they’ve been obvious about it. Well... except for right now, I guess.”

Realizations hit Minghao before he can even assign them feelings, reactions. 

He plasters on his best serene smile, cuts a line straight through the crowd to where Seokmin and Mingyu are drifting into one another like magnets, unable to avoid the attraction. He moves his body between them like a wall, forcing them apart.

“Seokmin-ssi,” Minghao says politely, shaking Seokmin’s hand as Seokmin tips his head down. In the seconds that Seokmin isn’t looking, Minghao meets Mingyu’s eyes. 

They share a brief standoff that takes milliseconds but feels like years and years worth of resentment. And like an automated machine, they soften their faces as soon as the reason their company isn’t completely underwater smiles at both of them.

“Did you enjoy the presentation?” Minghao asks. “

“I don’t understand most of it, but it was very well done,” Seokmin laughs brightly. “It was an honor to be invited...I don’t have nearly as many shares as some of the other people here.” He speaks with the cordiality and charisma of somebody who has been in the industry a long time. Long enough, really, to be one of the most sought after solo musicians on the entire continent. And certainly long enough to know that fucking the CEO of the company he’s signed to would destroy his career if anyone were to find out about it.

It’s exactly the reason that Minghao blames Mingyu for it implicitly.

“Will you excuse us?” Minghao asks, looking directly at Mingyu, but speaking to Seokmin. He has a hand on Mingyu’s elbow and Mingyu stares down at it like Minghao has him at gunpoint. “Mingyu, I’d like to discuss something with you.”

Mingyu is smart enough not to make a scene. It’s the type of thing engrained on people of his class. Keep your smiling face on, there are always eyes watching. 

“Your office. Ten minutes,” Minghao says. Mingyu is still smiling brightly when he nods.

*

Minghao stands in the grey of the quickly approaching twilight, staring at the lights of Seoul flickering to life. 

Mingyu’s office is the nicest, on one the top floors with big wide windows and modern furniture. The dark wooden desk had been a gift from his father and appears antique and out of place in the style of the rest of the room. It’s almost obsessively clean. Minghao wishes that Mingyu could apply the same level of discipline to his personal life.

Mingyu shuts the door behind him and leans on the outward edge of his desk, arms folded and legs crossed.

“What are you doing?” Minghao asks. Walking away from the view to stand in front of Mingyu. 

Mingyu raises his eyebrows and laughs softly. “What are _you_ doing? You just dragged me away from our client like a hostage.”

Minghao can feel his resolve fraying, the placidity usually undisturbed but easily fractured by Kim Mingyu and his inability to grasp the severity of any situation. “I just dragged you away from making a fool of yourself in front of your shareholders. You’re _welcome_ ,” he says sharply.

Mingyu looks taken aback for a moment and it may be the first time Minghao has ever seen Mingyu appear anything other than confident. He appears pliant in a way, malleable, as deconstructed as a wad of clay. Minghao takes note of it like loose brick in a defensive wall, the lapse in the system. It only lasts a moment.

“What are you talking about? I was just talking to him.” Mingyu’s smile takes on a familiar edge.

In school, Minghao learned that business was a lot like playing cards, that there was a performance to it, a test of resolve. Never reveal your hand, never show how you feel. Minghao hadn’t gotten where he was by revealing every time he was shaken. 

“Are you sure?” Minghao asks coolly. He gives Mingyu a condescending smirk.

“Are _you_?” 

“I heard from a reliable enough source.”

“You listen to every piece of gossip you hear?”

“And I saw the way you and Seokmin were behaving.”

Mingyu bites down on his bottom lip before he breaks into his own smile. The office gets darker, lit only by the small desk lamp and light of the hallway forcing itself through the frosted glass of the office door. “Oh? How were we behaving?”

Minghao crosses his arms. “I don’t think I need to explain to you why this is a bad idea.”

“Are you jealous?”

“What?”

“Are - you - jealous?” Mingyu enunciates each word, his amusement growing with each syllable.

“Is this funny to you?” Minghao says, cocking his head. 

“Are you going to answer the question?” Mingyu laughs.

Minghao refuses to break eye contact, refusing to show his hand. He smiles calmly. “Not everyone wants to sleep with you. Believe it or not.”

“I’ve seen you looking at me,” Mingyu says, voice dropping lower, legs uncrossing to accommodate how he leans into Minghao’s space. 

And in seconds they’ve gone from standing at a distance to their noses nearly touching, Minghao’s body drifting forward. Mingyu’s eyes flick down to Minghao’s mouth, to his closed lip smile, and then back up with something in his eye that makes that churn in Minghao’s stomach start up again. 

Only this time it’s worse. He locks his knees against the force of it, the weight of Mingyu’s stare. He wonders if this is how Mingyu looks at all the people he tries to sleep with. Arrogant smile betrayed by his pupils dilating with want. How his eyes get hooded and he leans just a little too close, how his breathing gets soft and labored.

“I look, too, you know,” Mingyu whispers. 

Minghao lets Mingyu kiss him. It’s chaste and hungry all at once. Mingyu’s mouth parting to close on Minghao’s bottom lip, tasting like an expensive cabernet, full bodied and dark red. Minghao doesn’t breathe, but he puts his hands on either side of Mingyu’s hips on the desk and digs his nails into the wood when Mingyu kisses him again.

Their employees are still working in cubicles just outside the door. He can hear the ringing of the phones, the tapping sounds of keyboards. The sounds are loud, but not louder than the wet press of Mingyu’s mouth or the sound of him breathing through his nose. 

Minghao puts his hands on Mingyu’s jaw and licks into his mouth like a demand. Mingyu groans softly, hands gripping at Minghao’s waist like he doesn’t realize how much bigger he is. He’s rough and Minghao isn’t sure if it’s deliberate, but it’s an invitation all the same. 

He undoes the buttons of Mingyu’s suit jacket, shoving it apart so he can put his hands on Mingyu’s body through the fabric of his pristine Armani shirt. He’s never touched him there. Not at his soft tapered waist or the hard lines of his chest, and now that his hands know the feeling they can’t stop touching, grabbing, squeezing just a little too tightly. 

Mingyu fights back. He grabs Minghao’s hips to pull their bodies flush, knocking Minghao’s knees against the wood in the process. Minghao gasps and pulls away at the same time Mingyu does for a different reason. They both look down between them and Mingyu rolls his hips upwards, bodies gliding together between expensive fabric, smooth as silk.

They both moan, but Mingyu is louder. His mouth falls open, eyelashes fluttering. It’s a spectacle. Mingyu can be fucking his way through Seoul and still manage to be shattered by _this_.

“Shh. Do you want them to hear you out there?”

Mingyu scowls. Or it’s a pinch of his brows signaling something else. 

Minghao moves his hips against Mingyu again. “Oh...maybe you do?”

Mingyu lets out a strangled moan and Minghao laughs.

“You want attention _so_ badly, don’t you?” Minghao breathes.

“And you give it to me, don’t you?” Mingyu replies mockingly, strained, but cutting. He presses his palms into the small of Minghao’s back, leans forward and latches on to the side of Minghao’s neck. His teeth are sharp. 

“Don’t you get enough?” Minghao starts at the buttons of Mingyu’s shirt. 

“You mean, do I get enough from Seokmin?”

Minghao hesitates on the last button. He plucks it out of place and then shoves Mingyu’s shirt down his arms so it restrains them. He holds the shirt there so Mingyu’s motions are limited, leaning back to look straight into his eyes. _Don’t show your hand_.

Mingyu laughs softly. “You’re so jealous,” he says in awe.

“No.”

“You get judgemental when you know I’m with women,” Mingyu says. “But never jealous.” He leans back, rucking his hips up, not making any effort to untangle his arms. “You want to know what it’s like?”

Minghao bites his lip. There’s the click of high heels just outside the door. Mingyu ignores it.

“I like sucking dick,” Mingyu says quietly. “I’m good at it, too. Seokmin told me I’m the best he’s ever had.”

Mingyu tries to shift his arms, but Minghao readjusts his grip. He lets go of the shirt to grab both of Mingy’s wrists, holding them still against the edge of the desk. 

Mingyu blinks rapidly and then rolls his hips again. “Do you ever think about it, Minghao-ya? I bet you do.”

He does. He _is._ Seokmin’s lovely voice and Mingyu’s full mouth. 

“You wanna shut me up, Minghao-ya?”

He does. He _is_.

Minghao lets go of Mingyu’s wrists and takes two steps back. Mingyu doesn’t hesitate. He sinks straight down to his knees, cufflinks still trapping his arms in his shirt, and slides his hands up Minghao’s thighs to the button of his pants. Mingyu looks up at him with a smile as he pulls Minghao’s cock out, thick fingers wrapping around him. Minghao gasps and puts his hand in Mingyu’s hair, gripping just on the other side of painful. Mingyu moans.

“Stop being so loud. Put it in your mouth,” Minghao whispers.

Mingyu sighs, staring up at him as he licks up the length of him and then takes him down in one fluid motion. He chokes, eyes squeezing shut, and Minghao swears as he catches himself on the desk behind Mingyu’s head. 

“You always seemed to like it when I tell you what to do,” Minghao grits out, moving his hips forward just an inch. “My entire job is following you around and telling you what you have to do and you _like it_ , don’t you? You pretend you get annoyed, but really you just want somebody to have control.”

Mingyu lets out a choked sound, swallowing around Minghao again. He reaches up, holding onto Minghao’s forearms and then looks up at him. Eyes wide, but challenging, not bothering to defend himself from the accusations. Minghao smiles.

“Maybe that’s why you’re always being so irresponsible. You want my attention? You want me to tell you no?” He punctates his questions with the press of his cock into Mingyu’s slack mouth and Mingyu takes it, nails digging into Minghao’s jacket.

It’s four months worth of frustration released in the most unhealthy way Minghao could have possibly imagined. He tests Mingyu’s limits. First, he’s slow, just the shallow thrust of his hips. But Mingyu blinks up expectantly, tauntingly. And something restraining the last wave of Minghao’s ugliness snaps.

He makes Mingyu choke like he wants him to feel all the times he’s made Minghao’s life a living hell right in the back of his throat. Minghao shudders through the feeling. Because even when Mingyu chokes he doesn’t stop working his tongue, making soft noises, holding on tight to Minghao’s arms. 

Nothing is worse than having yet another thing Mingyu is confident about proven that it’s not without merit.

Mingyu pulls back suddenly, chin wet with saliva. He grins. “You hate me so much.” 

Like it’s something to be proud of. Like it’s a badge of honor.

“You want to fuck me?” Mingyu rises to his feet, hand coming to stroke Minghao’s spit-slick cock. 

Minghao laughs, high and dazed. “I think _you_ want me to fuck you.”

“And?” 

“You hate me, too, don’t you?”

Mingyu’s eyes light up, crinkling at the corners from the way he smiles wide. He goes for the cufflinks at his wrists, wet fingers trying and failing to get the little gold bars out from their places. “There’s lube and condoms in the second left drawer. Way in the back.”

They undress with shaking hands, but not because they’re nervous. Minghao stands back appreciatively as Mingyu gets himself undressed and unsurprisingly, Mingyu blooms at the attention. He keeps his eyes fixed on Minghao as he drops his pants and underwear, as he wraps a hand around his dick and stokes it like he’s bragging about it. Minghao watches his hand, and Mingyu laughs before he turns around and lays his stomach flat on his own desk.

Minghao fingers him open, his other hand on Mingyu’s back to keep him from squirming like he tries to. “I can’t believe you have lube in here. How often are you fucking people in your office?”

Mingyu breathes roughly, grabbing a hold of the other side of the desk. “Enough.”

“Enough?” Minghao rolls his eyes. “Don’t act like you don’t want to tell me all about it.”

“Four times.”

Minghao crooks his fingers, arms tensing when Mingyu clutches around him. “Four times? Was I here?”

Mingyu bites his lip, pulling the skin between his teeth before releasing it. “Yeah. Twice.”

“Did you want me to find you? That it? You wanted me to catch you in here?”

Mingyu chuckles. “Maybe.”

The question hangs in the air so Minghao asks it.

“Seokmin, too?”

Mingyu laughs again, cut off by the way he swallows a moan when Mingyu works at third finger inside of him. “I bet that’s the one you wanted to watch.”

Minghao shudders. “That’s the one you _wanted_ me to watch.”

“I was sitting at my desk. He’s the one who got in my lap.”

Minghao looks up at the leather chair on the other side of the desk, then back at Mingyu’s profile illuminated by the desk lamp. “You could have ruined everything. How could you be so careless?” 

He pulls his fingers out of Mingyu, going for the condom and sliding it on to himself. Mingyu pushes himself to rest on his elbows and looks back at Minghao with the quirk of his lips. He’s breathing hard, eyes glassy, curving his back to show he’s ready.

“It was just you and I on this floor. It was so late. He rides dick like....god, you have to see him do it,” Mingyu gasps as Minghao grabs hold of his hips, guides himself into the clutch of him. “He wasn’t quiet at all. He never is. I thought you had heard us for sure.”

Minghao‘s head swims, lips parting to let a high sound tumble out. A phone rings on the other side of the door, an employee close by taking a call. 

“Are you going to be quiet?” Minghao’s voice shakes. He presses his lips flush to Mingyu’s ass, holds him steady in his hands as he draws back and pushes in. 

Mingyu whines and then lays flat on the desk again. “Make me.”

Minghao exhales and then puts one hand on the center of Mingyu’s back, the other sliding up to curl around Mingyu’s jaw. He covers Mingyu’s mouth with his palm and Mingyu groans, legs shaking as Minghao snaps his hips upwards.

It teeters on the boundary of rough, but Minghao trembles at the way Mingyu never takes his eyes away from him. He whimpers into Minghao’s hand like liquid, until it spills between Minghao’s fingers and down his wrist.

And worst of all Minghao has never had sex like this before. It’s intimate, somehow, the way Mingyu knits up his brows with all the rancour he claims to have for Minghao, but still pushes himself backwards to meet Minghao’s hips. The way Minghao has never heard anyone sound like this, even through the cup of his palm, and how he’s trying _so hard_ to make Mingyu keep whining.

Minghao covers Mingyu’s back with his chest. “You sound like this with everyone?” He sighs against Mingyu’s ear and Mingyu shivers, shaking his head. He grabs Minghao’s wrist, pulling it away easily and demonstrating how much he was willingly giving Minghao control all along.

“Just you.” 

That’s all it takes. Minghao presses his forehead against Mingyu’s temple as he moves faster, grinding up against him with urgency until he can’t keep quiet either. Mingyu turns his head, swallowing down the sounds he’s making with the curl of his tongue, the sharpness of his teeth. 

Minghao comes saying Mingyu’s name and it feels like he’s signing a contract without reading the terms. Mingyu shudders under him, hand reaching back to tangle fingers in Minghao’s hair. He kisses Minghao through the waves of it, even when Minghao can’t kiss back.

Mingyu shifts and Minghao leans away so Mingyu can turn himself over. He sits up on his elbows and reaches for his cock before Minghao slaps his hand away.

Something has shifted and Minghao can feel it when Mingyu looks down at Minghao’s hand working over him. It’s like Minghao has been pursued by a predatory thing and finally it’s catching up, jaws around his heel, yanking him down to the ground and settling over him. 

Mingyu might be the most perfect looking man he’s ever seen. Admitting that sends a thrill through him. And he must show it in his eyes because Mingyu blinks back at him with a shocked expression on his face, brows drawn like he’s reading every single thought flurrying through Minghao’s head and discovering they’re all about him.

Minghao kisses him a little too gently and Mingyu comes all over his hand. His stomach twitches, muscles contracting, hand clutching tight on Minghao’s upper arm. And then he’s kissing back just as gently. When Minghao opens his eyes he can see that Mingyu has had his open all along.

The busyness outside the office is quieting as people have started going home for the day. There’s still people there, they can hear the din of their conversations. Mingyu looks to the door and Minghao laughs - a drunken sort of giggle that makes Mingyu smile even more.

“We need to get dressed,” Mingyu says, dragging his nails down the center of Minghao’s chest like he’s leaving his mark. Private and hidden. _Mingyu was here_.

Minghao nods. This time, he watches and he doesn’t care if Mingyu sees him doing it.

**Author's Note:**

> [my twitter](https://twitter.com/lithomancy) / [my curiouscat](https://curiouscat.qa/lithomancy)


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